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Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction


The following is a piece of writing submitted by TC on September 11, 2011
"I am reposting this story from my blog."

Planes Aren't Angry and Buildings Aren't Innocent.

Saturday, September 10, 2011
Planes Aren't Angry and Buildings Aren't Innocent.
The High School band was to march with much of the community to commemorate 9/11. The march, really a walk, around a small lake and through a good part of the town was scheduled to start after some speeches and before a nice cook out. India and the rest of the band stood around, restlessly, in their plain black uniforms and berets looking like a rather large group of not quite ready french mimes. Unlike mimes though the band had a very hard time keeping anything close to quiet.

India thought about how hot and miserable it was in the early afternoon dressed all in black looking like a mine, she in fact mimed to her dad that she sooo hot by waving her hand at her face like a makeshift not very effective fan, like the kind fat ladies in church used to use in the old days. Her dad nodded to her in acknowledgment with a bemused look on his face. No one shared in the humor and Dad wondered how nobody else was getting the loud non-mime, miming. Too subtle he thought, to much going on.

There were many things going on, or so it appeared, but after walking around City Hall for ten minutes visiting the sparse and sad collection of vendor's booths one who was really paying attention realized there was really nothing to do but wait. Being the first time that India and her dad attended such an event, they didn't know what they were waiting for. India had that frenetic energy freshmen high school children always have when they are doing anything out of the ordinary, before they realize later in life how ordinary it really was. She was excited, the whole band was and they were swarming together like bees. Hot, black bees. Dad and other adults gave up on hoping to find anything of interest in any of the booths or in City Hall, where every adult at least walked through looking for a little air conditioned relief but found none. Dad hoped that City Hall was usually air conditioned because if not then the idea of a city job being a good job would be bunk.

India's dad knew what he was waiting on, he was waiting for the event to end so that he could simply go home, which was the last place India was thinking about right now. She was waiting for the march, the show, the first time the new band was going to march, but not the last. Dad, a veteran, had long given up the notion of patriotism and knew that most, not all, of it was marketing. Still they were here for a memorial and he was a trooper. Besides, he thought hopefully, if there is no relief from the sweltering heat soon India would start to beg to go home regardless of the excitement of the moment. If nothing else India was certainly practical and she does not like to be too hot. Dad thought that the heat may work for him today. The more she waved that ineffective fan the better. Then again maybe the food will be worth it, sometimes one gets a pleasant surprise at events such as these.

Speaking today is the local mayor, a sort of beefy looking lady the kind who has glasses hanging around her neck on a chain and hammed up the country small town image by saying "Ya'll" constantly. Following her is to be the local State Representative, just a man in a suit. Dad had never heard of either of them but then this was the next town over and not his district.

The ceremony was set to begin after what seemed like five or six hours but was probably only thirty minutes. The band quieted down and formed up and the band parents, who kind of congregated together near the front steps of City Hall making small talk about how hot it was, eventually quieted down as well. The National Anthem played first but not with out problems, eventually whoever was running what Dad thought just had to be a cassette deck figured out the proper sequence of switches and the music played loud. Too loud. It would seem the organizers hoped that anywhere between ten and fifteen thousand locals where going to attend instead of the two hundred, twenty five of which were band parents. Hats came off and hands went to chests, some "hoorah" types even saluted, keeping their hats on. Dad thought those were probably the bald guys.

Most people stared, eyes fixed, at Old Glory religiously, not Dad. India's dad did what he always does and looked at the people. He found jaded amusement in watching people during these ritualistic moments. Right next to him a little girl asked her mother what the flag next to the American flag was. Alright good question. The Answer? "I don't know honey. It must be the town's flag". Dad's eyebrows went up a little and his eyes kind of flickered back and forth and he said I'm sorry but that is the State of Florida's flag. Oh. Really? Yes ma'am, really. Oh.

The way too loud music finally subsided and the marching band went to parade rest and hats went back on heads and the bald dropped their salutes and hands came off chests and tears were wiped off the most patriotic of faces.

The mayor made her way to the podium, she began by telling the crowd that the state rep would speak next and then she reached for her glasses dangling around her neck on the fake gold chain and took out her piece of paper that she probably worked on for days. All Dad heard her say over and over was "ya'll". Upstaged by herself he thought laughing inside. She finished her country speech and stepped off the podium and walked away right though the middle of the crowd and was almost to the stairs of City Hall before she stopped turned around and returned to the podium to introduce the Representative. The rep she, in her speech fervor, momentarily completely forgot about. This is getting good thought Dad, and the band continued to stand in parade rest. India's shoulders sagging a little bit, hot.

Now the State Representative is a politician. Dad hoped he was a good one, he hoped India would get to see and here a professional speaker step up to a podium on a vital issue and just blow everybody away. That didn't happen. Dad had heard good speeches before and to be fair this one was not bad. Hell, the guy didn't have to do too much though, the crowd of small town country folks was already keyed up after the buffeting of the Anthem and it was after all, a 9/11 memorial ceremony. It would have been easy enough for this guy to push the crowd over the top. Instead he laid up. The speech did have its moments though and not bad...until the end.
He closed the speech by recalling the events of that horrible day and tried to rally the crowd and actually said with a rising voice,"When those angry planes flew into those innocent buildings". What? Wait, what? Did he just say angry planes and innocent buildings? He did didn't he. Dad asked the same band mother who didn't know the state's flag. She said yep, why? Nothing dear. Never mind.

Did anybody hear it? Oh yeah! Everybody heard it! Thundering applause! Good for the state guy. Dad was now thoroughly entertained but sadly could not find anybody else who realized he just gave objects personality traits with out simile. Maybe it isn't such a big deal he thought maybe he expected too much from the guy. Heck no! That guy is a professional. To Dad he was like your home team losing. Again. He was happy that the small town rally did not pull any news coverage, then again it would have been nice to have video. After asking s couple of people who just looked at him blankly Dad was worried that the gem was lost. It WAS lost on the crowd but there should have been some who he could have at least giggled with. Nope.

After the speeches the band was called to attention. The memorial walk began. Thirty minutes later it was over and everyone felt that they did their part to remember a tragic day in recent history. Time to eat. The band put away their instruments and relaxed a little, a good job done and there was new life in India's face. They were given permission to remove their black over jackets and Dad knew it was still going to be awhile before he would be able to drag India away.

The food was not bad, not great, not bad. There was plenty and there was something to drink and they were in the shade on the City Hall property. The community kids and the band kids and what must have been other kids bused in just to eat where running around raising all kind of hell and the trash cans filled up with paper plates, styrofoam cups, and napkins. Band parents where looking around for their kids and their kids were trying to make plans to go home with other kids. The hick mayor was not in site and the air conditioning was probably running in City Hall, and the State guy was probably half way back to Tallahasee. Dad was talking to some other parents, full, quenched, and finally, with a breeze, comfortable.

That was when India hugged her dad and said she was still hot and ready to go, then she pulled back and said Dad! Did you here that second guy's speech? He said that the planes were angry and the buildings were innocent and that's not right is it? People are angry and innocent not buildings, and I'm tired. Can we go? Yeah Baby, we can go!

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